There’s an enormous amount of technical skill on display in Paradisum, which is a circus show from the Hungarian company Recirquel. But the level of artistry is inconsistent and that’s a problem: because circus is enjoying a huge renaissance these days, there are a lot of technically skilled circus performers running around the globe so, to stand out, a circus performance needs to do so on the basis of its artistry.
Don’t get me wrong. There is a vision — or the beginning of one — in director and choreographer Bence Vági’s creation: Paradisum seems to be about recovery or rebirth. The main set piece is an enormous, textured, and shiny swath of black fabric that can be manipulated into different shapes and cover almost the entire stage. It looks like industrial sludge, but it could also represent all sorts of darkness: depression, addiction, political despair. Near the beginning of the performance, six acrobats emerge from underneath this fabric and, throughout the show, the blackness feints at trying to suck them back in as they struggle to rise, fly, and find the light.
But the structure of Paradisum works against this visual concept. Because Paradisum is basically a series of solos in which artists display their skills, the tension between the sludge and the individuals is underdeveloped: to a greater or lesser degrees, the drama is put on pause so that we can admire a series of technical skills. Because there isn’t enough integration of physical form and thematic content, it’s hard to focus on exactly what it is we’re supposed to be watching.
Let’s look at some of the episodes.
The evening launches weakly. To the sound of ominous rumbling (Edina Szirtes composed the score), performer Ádám Fehér hurls himself onstage, running backwards, then falling over and writhing. This movement is generic. Things improve a bit when a long pole descends from the heavens, dangling from a wire. With one end of the pole a fixed point on the stage and the other rotating in a circle, Fehér rides the pole in an approximation of flight. He’s muscular and Attila Lenzsér’s sculptural lighting adores his muscularity. Still, emotionally and conceptually, there isn’t a lot to hold on to.
Working hand-balance canes, the next soloist, Kateryna Larina, is much more technically impressive: strong enough to support herself in a one-armed handstand for long periods while the rest of her body dances, and insanely flexible. There are some interesting choreographic moments here: it’s dreamy, for instance, when Larina moves her legs slowly, as if swimming. Still, during this piece and the next one (Ivett Ignácz on a hoop), I could not find a satisfying point of access to the material.
Then a guy named Yevhen Havrylenko arrived and worked the aerial straps. Things finally came together. The underpinnings of the success of this section are Havrylenko’s emotional commitment to the choreography and the fuller development of the choreographic narrative, which allows those feelings to flourish. The sludge keeps trying to seduce Havrylenko and, more than once, he submits to its embrace — so there’s tension and complexity. Havrylenko’s movement is lyrical, almost balletic, and the surprising shapes in Vági’s choreography keep flowing so there’s a sense of accumulation as the acrobat builds to his big — and emotionally resonant — tricks: tumbling towards the stage in a sudden freefall, ascending while spinning at an incredible rate.
I also enjoyed Andrii Mazlov’s work. As Mazlov balanced on a freestanding ladder and juggled, there was a concrete sense of tension, as well as an appealing playfulness.
Overall, I wanted Paradisum to pay more attention to narrative and thematic accumulation. If Paradisum is really about overcoming darkness, for instance, more group work would help: it’s rare to overcome darkness alone.
Still, there were a couple of significant highlights for me. And I want to mention one more: an immersive sound cue at the end threw the audience into the middle of a jungle cacophony. (The sound design is by Gábor Terjék.) After the sludge, after the darkness, it was transporting to be surrounded by avian ecstasy.
PARADISUM Choreographed and directed by Bence Vági. A Recirquel production presented by DanceHouse and The Cultch. At the Playhouse until January 24. (Tickets and information)
PHOTO CREDIT: Kateryna Larina on the hand-balance canes, lit by Attila Lenzsér. (Photo by Mark Dawson)
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